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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26941759">Housewarming</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyjane/pseuds/crazyjane'>crazyjane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SpookyVIXX October 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>VIXX</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gift Giving, M/M, SpookyVIXX October, house-warming</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:07:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26941759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyjane/pseuds/crazyjane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Do you really hate that painting?’ Wonshik asked.</p><p>‘I really, really do.’ Wonshik sighed. ‘But … it’s still a gift. It can stay. Just for a while,’ Hongbin hastened to add. Wonshik smiled, and kissed Hongbin loudly on the cheek. ‘The things I do for you,’ grumbled Hongbin.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Wonshik | Ravi/Lee Hongbin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SpookyVIXX October 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955065</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Housewarming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>prompts: house + 'Can't you hear that?'</p><p> </p><p>No paintings were harmed in the making of this fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time they got around to opening the house-warming gifts, everyone was well and truly drunk. Having been threatened with death-by-Hongbin if they turned up with anything as mundane as a toaster, the presents tended towards the useless and ridiculous. Hakyeon gave home-made candles nestled in a basket with lube and condoms in every flavour imaginable, which made Wonshik’s alcohol-fuelled blush deepen to the point he was nearly glowing with embarrassment. A pair of inflatable chairs, one shaped like a basketball, the other like a rather deformed starfish, was Sanghyuk’s contribution ‘because I’m not sitting on the floor every time I come here, goddammit’. For his part, Taekwoon ignored the couple entirely, handing over an envelop containing a year’s subscription to a ‘Treat of the Month’ website aimed at pampering dogs. In their own way, each was thoughtful, and received general acclaim. But when Wonshik tore the wrapping paper off Jaehwan’s gift to reveal a framed painting, there was only a stunned silence.</p><p> Hongbin nearly choked on the mouthful of soju he’d just taken. ‘That’s hideous!’ he spluttered. Catching sight of the look in Wonshik’s eye, he warned, ‘Don’t even think about it. I already have to put up with your fetish for weird purple light - we are <em>not</em> having that thing on the wall as well.’</p><p>‘Rejected!’ cries Jaehwan, and flung himself dramatically over Hakyeon, almost knocking him over. ‘How can you do this to me? I chose it especially for you. It’s a present from my heart!’</p><p>‘It’s … not bad,’ said Taekwoon weakly. Hongbin looked at him as though he was insane.</p><p>‘Not bad?’ exclaimed Hongbin incredulously. ‘Do you even <em>see</em> that?’ He gestured at the picture. It was a circus scene, the main feature of which was a group of elephants. Dancing baby elephants with wide eyes and long eyelashes. Wearing frilly tutus. They clustered around a scarlet-clad ringmaster whose mustache defied gravity as he brandished a whip. Above them could faintly be seen two tiny figures on the highwire, while the audience was little more than a wash of darker greys and browns behind them. The execution was cartoonish, the overall effect cute beyond belief. ‘My teeth are practically rotting just from looking at it’ His fingers curled into that familiar cringe they all knew so well.</p><p>‘That settles it,’ declared Wonshik. ‘The painting stays.’ Hongbin shot him a look of utter betrayal, but, cushioned by a warm blanket of drunken obliviousness, Wonshik just smiled sweetly and patted his cheek. </p><p>‘Besides,’ chimed in Hakyeon, ‘that one with the chubby cheeks and the pink tutu looks <em>awfully</em> like you, Binnie.’</p><p>At that point Hongbin launched himself at the dancer with an outraged cry, and the party dissolved in chaos.</p><p>Later, Wonshik shut the door on the last guests (a very drunk Taekwoon being barely held up by an only-slightly-less-drunk Jaehwan), and came back into the living room to see Hongbin regarding the debris of the evening with dismay. ‘Looks more like a house-wrecking party,’ he grumbled.</p><p>Wonshik slipped his arms around Hongbin’s waist and pressed himself against his back. ‘It can wait until morning,’ he said, and brushing his lips against the side of Hongbin’s neck and smiling at the tiny shiver it provoked. ‘Do you really hate that painting?’</p><p>‘I really, really do.’ Wonshik sighed. ‘But … it’s still a gift. It can stay. Just for a while,’ Hongbin hastened to add. Wonshik smiled, and kissed Hongbin loudly on the cheek. ‘The things I do for you,’ grumbled Hongbin.</p><p>‘You love me,’ said Wonshik confidently.</p><p>‘Shut up.’</p><p>It was just after three in the morning when Wonshik woke suddenly to find himself alone in the bed. <em>Must be in the bathroom</em>, he thought, slipping back into sleep, but when he surfaced again, half an hour had passed, and Hongbin still wasn’t there. Wonshik climbed out of bed, hunted around for a pair of sweatpants, and spent a few moments staring at them until his still-inebriated brain remembered what to do with them. Then he padded down the short hallway. </p><p>Hongbin stood in the darkened living room, facing the painting. His hands hung loose by his sides, just brushing against his boxers. As Wonshik came closer, he could see Hongbin’s eyes, barely half-open, and thought, <em>he’s still asleep</em>. ‘Bin?’ he called softly. ‘Hey. Come back to bed.’ Although Hongbin tilted his head slightly, he gave no other sign that he’d heard. <em>Not just asleep, sleep-<strong>walking</strong>. Shit. Now what do I do?</em> Wonshik had seen enough movies to know that the accepted wisdom was not to wake someone in that state, although precisely why this was so was never really clear. Still, better not to take chances. Still using that same gentle voice, he said, ‘It’s really late, baby, come and lie down with me again.’ Hongbin took a step towards the painting. ‘What is it, is there something on your mind? Is it the painting? Would you -’</p><p>‘Shh.’ </p><p>Wonshik started. He hadn’t actually expected Hongbin to talk back to him. It showed the other man was listening to him, though, so he seized on that. ‘I know, you’re right, it really is terrible, but why don’t you come back to sleep now and in the morning we can talk about -’</p><p>‘Be quiet. I’m listening.’</p><p>There was no sound in the apartment other than their own voices. <em>He’s dreaming</em>. ‘What are you listening to, Binnie?’</p><p>Hongbin’s voice was barely more than a mumble, so quiet Wonshik had to lean in to hear properly. ‘I’m listening to the music.’</p><p>‘What music?’</p><p>‘The circus music,’ said Hongbin, as though it should be obvious. ‘It’s pretty.’ He swayed a little on his feet in time with an inaudible beat. ‘Can’t you hear that?’</p><p>‘So you like the painting now, huh?’ he teased. ‘Want to go to the circus and see the baby elephants?’</p><p>‘Yeah,’ Hongbin replied. There was something childlike about it. ‘Wanna go. Wanna see the ellies.’</p><p><em>Ellies? Oh, you’re going to be so embarrassed about this when I tell you in the morning</em>, thought Wonshik, smiling to himself. Barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice, he said, ‘Maybe we can go in the morning. You should have a good rest before you see the ellies.’</p><p>Hongbin actually <em>pouted</em>. ‘Wanna go now.’</p><p>‘Bedtime now,’ said Wonshik firmly. ‘Ellies later.’ His grin widened, thinking of all the mileage he was going to get out of this. A discreet word in Sanghyuk’s ear would enlist him as a co-conspirator. There was a ridiculously cute elephant onesie he’d seen on some website, and finding a pink tutu would probably be easy …</p><p>‘Going now,’ announced Hongbin. ‘Bye-bye, Shikkie.’ He moved right up to the painting and put his hands against it.</p><p>Wonshik sighed. ‘Okay, enough for one night. Come on, let’s go.’ Hongbin shook his head and pushed with both hands ... and they sank <em>into</em> the painting. ‘What the hell?’ <em>I didn’t see that, my eyes are playing tricks on me, I didn’t see that. </em>With a little crow of delight, Hongbin shoved harder. His arms disappeared, his upper body starting to follow. Forgetting everything he’d previously decided about not disturbing a sleepwalker, Wonshik sprang forward, grabbed Hongbin by the shoulders, and wrenched backwards. Hongbin didn’t budge, but a frown crossed his face. ‘Bean, stop!’ Wonshik shouted. ‘Stop! Wake up!’</p><p>Hongbin blinked, focusing with difficulty. ‘Shik? What … what’s happening, how did I …’ His eyes widened. ‘I’m stuck.’ He tried to lean backwards, straining against something. Instead, he lurched forward, almost dragged off his feet. ‘Get me out of here!’ Trying to ignore everything in his brain that was screaming <em>this is not real it cannot be real</em>, Wonshik yanked sharply. There was a moment of give, but then Hongbin let out a terrified cry. ‘Something’s got me, it’s pulling me in! Don’t let go, Shik, don’t let go, I don’t wanna go, help me!’ </p><p>‘I’ve got you!’ Wonshik yelled. He used all his strength, but inch by inexorable inch, Hongbin was drawn in further, feet no longer touching the carpet, neck craned backwards as far as it could go. ‘No, no no no no …’ Their voices tumbled over each other, Wonshik’s breathless with effort, Hongbin’s high and panicked. <em>I’m losing him</em>, Wonshik thought despairingly, and then something inside the painting <em>tugged</em>, and he crashed to the floor as Hongbin was ripped from his grasp. He scrambled up again immediately. </p><p>Hongbin was gone. </p><p>‘Bin?’ whispered Wonshik uncertainly. ‘Binnie?’ He looked around in a daze. Some part of him expected his lover to come walking out of the bedroom, or perhaps the bathroom. That must be it. That would make sense. He’d been dreaming, and come out here half-asleep, and he hadn’t really see anything, it couldn’t have happened because people didn’t just disappear, they didn’t get <em>eaten up by pictures</em> and just disappear, it was a dream, it must have been. He could hear his own breathing, harsh and shallow and too fast. He needed to go back to bed, Hongbin would be waiting for him and they could laugh about stupid Wonshik and his stupid nightmares …</p><p>The painting rippled. </p><p><em>Don’t look at it</em>, Wonshik told himself, but he couldn’t turn away. He raised his eyes.</p><p>It looked just the same. The cute animals, the ringmaster … but as Wonshik looked closer, he could see the audience clearly now. They were crammed into the tiered seats, faces twisted in horror and disgust, arms frozen with hands outstretched as though trying to push something away. Men, women, and oh, so many children. All of them trapped, pleading for help with anguished eyes. And in the third row up, just left of centre, mouth open in a silent scream, staring straight at him …</p><p>‘Binnie,’ breathed Wonshik. ‘<em>No</em> …’ </p><p>He slammed his hands against the painting, scratched at the canvas, tried to tear his way in. Nothing worked. Nothing even left a mark. ‘Let me hear it, let me in,’ he begged, hardly aware of what he was saying. ‘Let me in ... you can have me, I don’t care, just don’t take him away from me, please, please, <em>please</em> …’</p><p>Even after his legs failed him, and he collapsed to the floor, he kept his head turned towards the painting, his hand brushing feebly at the frame, whispering, ‘please please please …’</p><p>He never heard a thing.</p><p> </p>
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